


Like A Pair Of Open Graves

by bloodonmytypewriterkeys



Series: like a pair of open graves [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Blood Kink, Breathplay, Choking, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masochism, Slapping, Wound Fucking, i guess?, like fully consenting to something you don't get to say no to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodonmytypewriterkeys/pseuds/bloodonmytypewriterkeys
Summary: Daud and Corvo are fucking their way through Dunwall's many empty shrines and some small part of Daud's brain makes the mistake of thinking this means they might not be enemies. Corvo corrects him.Work/chapter titles from the Mountain Goats' "Rain in Soho." Sequel to "Ruined Men" but not necessary to read that first.





	1. Try to Make Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though you repent and don sackcloth and try to make nice / You can’t cross the same river twice

**1.**

****They meet at shrines throughout the city. Sometimes it's planned, sometimes not.

More often than Daud would like to admit, it's a faked coincidence. He takes a patrol that he'd given to a whaler, because it's about time for Emily's dancing lessons and Corvo sometimes takes the opportunity for a break and there's a shrine sort of near the tower and also plausibly near the house of the man Daud's following so... he goes. It's some comfort to know that Corvo has no better reason to be there than he does. The man they have been paid to watch has either a mistress or is being assaulted and it's surprisingly hard to tell which. They don't talk much during her visits.

Daud and Corvo don't talk much either.

(He doesn't know how the late empress kept Corvo sated. Daud can come _once,_ could maybe manage a second if they had an hour, which they never do. He wants to assume Corvo did all the work with Jessamine, but he doesn't believe Corvo was like this Before. He has no idea what Corvo was like Before but he knows he wasn't this.)

The Heart is always present, wherever Corvo goes, and it sings in the presence of the shrines. In those rotten glowing rooms it ignores Daud so thoroughly that he'd be grateful if he knew how.

Sometimes Daud falls asleep. He tries not to but Corvo drains him. Every encounter is violent and Corvo is stronger than him, makes him work all the harder. Corvo rides him until they are slick with mess, until they have both come and their bodies make wet noises with every movement. When that is not enough, he is pinned to any convenient surface so Corvo can ride his face and come again, and Daud can twitch weakly with wanting more. 

So even though Billie would tease him for it - might even worry about him - he sometimes falls asleep at the shrines when Corvo is leaving. He feels... not safe exactly, but like whatever Corvo might to do him would be acceptable. Maybe that's the same as safety.

Corvo goes back to the tower and does his void-damned job and does it right. Protects what needs protecting. When Daud intermittently breaks in - testing the security, he says - they fuck in Corvo's room or on the very highest roof. There's no room in the crowded cupboard that Corvo calls a shrine. It's still brutal, and the bed makes things easier, but Daud finds he prefers it at the shrines.

 

**2.**

****Months pass that way. They don't see each other that often, really. They are both busy men, getting only busier as Dunwall puts out the first green shoots of recovery.

High Overseer Yul Khulan is a mysterious man and Daud has so, so much to learn about him. Already it seems unlikely he will get any usable leverage over the man, so he'll have to know how to stay out of his way. It's worth the bother to know that if Daud can't control him, no one else can either. 

(It's strange to realise he cares what the High Overseer is like: how he changes the city and how others might change him. Strange to care about this city at all.)

There's no spymaster, official or otherwise. Parliament approves unconditionally, exempting those men who thought they might have had a chance at the office. There's no question that the position of spymaster is marked by the long shadow of Burrows' actions but ruling an empire without spies is not just unwise, it's impossible. Daud and Thomas break into the old offices once a week or so and take notes. They track down the belongings of the many spies Corvo killed and trail the few still serving, collating everything. Much of what Burrows' knew wasn't ever written down but they will work with the pieces the find. 

That's when he makes his mistake.

Corvo has ruined him: waited until Daud has fucked bruises into him and then insistently sucked Daud's cock better than the man should know how to, getting him hard enough to ride. Daud's second orgasm is pathetic and nearly painful but he manages to stay awake long enough to thoroughly fuck things up. Just says, sleepy and satisfied as Corvo is leaving, "If you need any of Burrows' information, let me know. We've collected most of it."

Too well accustomed to Corvo's body on his, it takes him a moment to register the fist coming for his face or the hand on his throat. He doesn't resist as Corvo snarlingly beats his face in and pins him, choking, to the floor. "Why?" Corvo snarls: tone making it clear that there's a hell of a lot more he'd like to say if he could.

Not knowing what possible lie might help, Daud tells the truth. "I thought it belonged in safe hands."

The next blow doesn't surprise him and he's too fucked out for it to really turn him on,  so mostly it's kind of boring and unpleasant. "And you think-" Corvo's voice is cut off a moment, whether from strain or anger. " _You_ are safe hands?"

Ah. Now that he thinks about it, Daud can see the gap in his logic there. A big, empress-sized gap. He covers for himself as best he can. "I thought the enemy you know is better than the enemy you don't."

The snort above him might mean Corvo doesn't believe him or just that he doesn't think the excuse is worth shit. Either way it manages to be enough that Corvo gets up. Doesn't even kick him on the way. "Stay out of the tower," he warns.

"Or what?" He can't quite feel bad for antagonising Corvo. As this has made clear, they are not friends by any definition of the word.

Corvo doesn't say anything, but gives Daud a look that could skin him.

 

******3.**

It is weeks before Daud sees him again.

Not at a shrine this time. Daud has just finished breaking into a house in the east Estate District when he spots Corvo standing on a roof, watching him. It's - an invitation, maybe? They're close enough to the palace that Corvo might just be here for some other reason, but he's watching Daud. Waiting. 

Using his void gaze, Daud can see a pearl fan in Corvo's pocket.

(It makes his heart ache, sudden and unexpected. They're not as common in Gristol as Serkonos, and—  His mother had one.)

There's a shrine nearby and not many reasons for Corvo to be prowling the rooftops with a pearl fan in his pocket, so Daud guesses it's one of Granny's recipes. They still seem to work, somehow. He's done it once since her death, just to see, and the spell felt awfully hungry. Like her spirit was still out in the void, trying to piece itself back together.

That's excuse enough to transverse up to Corvo. Not necessarily to warn him, just to... mention it in passing. It's not like Daud wants her back. 

But when he gets up there, Corvo is on another roof, again waiting for him.

Daud follows him like that to the shrine but stops before the last transversal. Corvo is waiting for him, as stoic as he has waited the entire time, but there is something... He remembers the feeling of falling asleep in Corvo's presence. The sense that whatever Corvo does to him is justified. More than justified: enjoyable. The bruises from last time had woken him up any time he rolled over in bed, and every time it happened it had made his cock twitch with interest. 

So instinct says Corvo planned their meeting tonight and led him here with a purpose: so what. The plan is almost inevitably to hurt each other and fuck, and he doesn't really care what particular variant on that Corvo has in mind.

He reaches out, clenches his fist, and lands on the balcony outside the shrine. 

There is a small thrill of pleasure in being right when an elbow hits his back, knocking him off balance long enough for Corvo to grab him by the throat and hold on.

Daud is hard instantly, and his pride isn't the concern it once was. There's no way he'll dislodge Corvo so he pushes a hand down his own pants and rubs his cock desperately, hoping he can come before he passes out. It doesn't matter what Corvo's end goal is: it's already been too long since the last time, and Daud just wants more of this. Wants to come in his pants while Corvo chokes him out, if that's what's on offer.

"What the fuck are you—" Corvo grunts but doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to: his cock is pressing hard into Daud's ass. Void yes, this feels better than he could hope. Corvo is an unstoppable force, a flood of violence unleashed upon the world, and Daud is at his mercy again and again and again. With the hand not wrapped around his cock, he shoves his pants down to his thighs, freeing himself enough to grind his ass against Corvo's clothed cock. "Fuck," Corvo groans, pressing forward as much as he can.

They grind against each other as Daud's vision spots and fades, as his lungs burn more than he can bear. Not long now. Daud finds a healing scrape on his hip - not from anything as enjoyable as this, but still sore - and presses in with short nails, drawing specks of blood and sending the pain right to his cock.

Realising that Daud isn't fighting back, or else just getting too desperate to help it, Corvo frees one hand from the chokehold to press fingers between Daud's lips. He tastes the way he always tastes: sweaty, grimy, filthy, and his fingers all but fuck Daud's throat, and that is all it takes.

He comes so hard he wouldn't even need Corvo to stop his breath. Still pushing back against Corvo's cock. With a moan that the forearm on his throat can't quite muffle.

His body is burning now, desperate. Too much oxygen used on nonessential things, and he realises vaguely he can't see. Hasn't been able to see for some seconds now, which is a warning sign. He's-

He hopes the encore is worth the headache this will give him.

(It will be.)

He blacks out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildly unedited as always, because there's no way these fics deserve better than my actual assignments. Chapter two will be soon I hope.


	2. Revel in the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could meet someone who’s lost like you / Revel in the darkness like a pair of open graves / Fumble through the fog for a season or two
> 
> Mind the tags!

Daud come to consciousness with his weight on his arms and something hard digging into his back. The glow of whale oil around him registers and all at once he realises where he is. Corvo has bolted hooks into the upper struts of the shrine, giving him a sturdy place to tie Daud's wrists. Some of the pain he feels must be barbed wire digging into his back.  It's an awkward position: his ass off the shrine, his legs free but virtually useless with him stretched out like this. 

And naked.

Of course he's naked. Of course he's getting hard. 

There are red bites on his chest and thighs where Corvo has entertained himself, and it's not long before the man himself appears. The doors to the room are closed, and the last window shuttered as Corvo slips through. He's breathing heavily, a sleep dart still notched in his crossbow. Securing the room and the streets around them, making sure they won't be disturbed.

It's almost romantic: this is their lover's tryst, the eerie purple their mood lighting, the sword Corvo draws carried in his hand like roses for his girl. There is no denying it's for Daud, not when Corvo looks at him like that. His cock hardens fully under Corvo's gaze, under the threat and promise therein.

"You want to know 'or what?'"

 _Still angry about that?_ Daud wants to ask, but he doesn't really want to get stabbed. He has been stabbed and historically not enjoyed it. Instead he keeps his mouth shut. Corvo steps between Daud's legs, grins down at him. 

Daud remembers a myth his mother told him: about an immortal bound to rocks, where birds would tear out his organs every day and by night they would regrow. He can't remember why she told him that but he remembers the nightmares. Black birds swooping down to him, beaks and claws tearing into his flesh. The fear of it is very real. A child's fear, still rich and fresh inside him. 

Corvo grabs Daud's cock with his marked hand and strokes him roughly, thumb smoothing over the head on each stroke past, grip tighter than Daud would do himself and so, so fucking good. He moans. Wishes for a moment he didn't, then realises Corvo is going to do much worse to him tonight, so he might as well get used to making noise now. Moans again with the next stroke and thrusts into Corvo's grip as much as he can.

That earns him a slap, and he makes an ugly, needy noise. "Please." Oh he didn't mean to say that but he means it in from the bottom of his soul.

Corvo slaps him again, harder. Giving him exactly what he wants, even as he says, "I don't owe you anything." Again, and Daud's face is hot and red and his cock is dripping. The conversation is over, apparently. It was a lot of talking by Corvo's standards.

The next thing he does is drop to his knees and lick a line along the underside of Daud's cock, popping the head in his mouth and sucking like- like- Daud doesn't think he's seen anyone suck cock with such _derision,_ so no similes come to mind. Corvo sucks cock like every bit of Daud's pleasure is a mark against him. 

When Corvo presses down, choking himself in Daud's cock, Daud can't help his response. He bucks off the shrine, feet barely touching the ground, so much weight on his wrists that the skin burns and maybe bleeds. Void - he can imagine that, blood running down his arms to drip onto the shrine, ropes soaking in it. Corvo gags as he tries to swallow Daud's cock, pulls back, pushes forward again and gags again and it feels- It shouldn't feel that way. If only he had a hand free to pull Corvo's hair.

Left with no other ways to respond, to retaliate, Daud lifts his weight on his arms and lifts his legs, draping them over Corvo's shoulders with some struggle. Dark eyes look up at him, glinting in the purple glow of whale oil, but Corvo doesn't do anything to stop him. Just allows it as Daud crosses his ankles on Corvo's back and clamps his thighs together against his throat.

It's not a choking angle, it's restricting veins not airways, but that can feel just as good. And it leaves Corvo's throat for what he's now convinced is its true purpose.

When he's thrusting helplessly into Corvo's mouth, so close, so close, Corvo slows down. Barely more than holding Daud's cock in his mouth. Daud clenches his thighs, trying to force more. He can hear Corvo moving, a scrape of something along the wood of the shrine. Another slow lap at Daud's cock, forcing thought from his mind. 

Then pain, digging in sharp points in the fat of Daud's thighs. Daud has a moment to look down and see the shrine's barbed wire wrapped around him, a stark contrast against pale skin, and then Corvo yanks it tight.

Daud arches off the shrine, pain lancing through his wrists and his thighs, the wet heat of Corvo's mouth still on his cock, his whole mind blanked by feeling. He nearly sobs when Corvo pulls away, mouth all pink and full from cock-sucking, eyes wicked. He's left there, hard and unfinished, as Corvo ties his thighs to the shrine. Holding them open and removing Daud's last means of defence. The pain isn't so bad as long he's still, but every time Corvo tugs it tighter he drags fresh cuts into Daud's skin.

Corvo stands back to admire his handiwork when he's done. It must make a good view. Daud is as strong as he ever was, broad shouldered and waist still trim and his legs are tensed to the toe, making every muscle show. His cock is red and hard against his stomach, so close to coming that precome dribbles down his length. "I should leave you," Corvo says, just loud enough to hear. "Leave, force you to summon an assassin to find you like this." He grins. There can't be more than one person in the world who feels safe seeing that grin. "Or summon overseers. Have them play their music box, punish your heresy. I'd watch. I'd get bored before they did, but I'd watch some."

"Come here," Daud snaps, leaning forward enough to draw more blood.

It's a genuine surprise when Corvo obeys, dropping his head down to kiss Daud gently, just for a second. Long enough for them to share the taste, before Daud bites Corvo's lip in a spurt of blood. Then Corvo is grinding their mouths together, sloppy, too wet now, blood and spit running down their chins. Corvo grinds his hips against Daud's body, thrusting uselessly through layers of clothes. When he pulls away, he wipes the blood off his mouth and smears it messily over Daud's face. "Blood suits you."

(It's not even subtle, the way he says that. They both know he is thinking about the blood Daud has shed. It's no more than Corvo has, but less justified. Whatever difference that makes. Daud's starting to think it doesn't make any difference at all. Blood looks just as good on Corvo as it does on him.)

"Please," Daud croaks, hips thrusting uselessly between them. Growls. "Come on." Whatever comes next, he's ready, he's aching for it.

The sword pressed against his throat is the perfect move. A threat he can do nothing about. Corvo kisses him again, grinning into it, teasing him with bites. Keeps kissing him as the sword trails down Daud's body, so sharp it leaves scratches in its path. The point comes to a rest above the crease of Daud's thigh. Not quite groin, not quite hip, not quite stomach.

Anatomy lessons and practical experience tell him more than he right now wants to know. There are important nerves and arteries, as much blood running through the joint as through his throat, but the sword is just far enough to the side. Closer to his hip, his flank. Not _safe._ Just more likely to hit bone than artery.

Corvo watches his face, still looking dangerously self-satisfied. He swaps the hilt to his left hand without moving the blade, and with his right undoes his pants. Pulls out his cock, looking just as agonisingly hard as Daud feels. He watches Daud's face for understanding, baring his teeth when Daud flinches. "Gonna call your boys?"

"Bite me," Daud snarls. The slap that gets him is, he thinks, a reward.

When Corvo presses the sword through his skin, Daud jerks against his bonds but doesn't make a noise.

It's not like getting stabbed in a fight. It's slow and luxurious and the pain is as deep as the void. The pain is rich and dark, and Daud is struggling not to thrash around it. He twists his hands against the ropes, letting those little bright lines of pain make some little distraction. 

His cock stays hard the entire time.

The wound flares with pain as Corvo pulls the sword out and drops it, forgets it entirely. Corvo's hands are shaking with lust as he grabs Daud's waist and pulls him closer, so close that Daud's shoulders strain in their sockets and his wrists slip a little in their bonds. Corvo finds a position with one foot braced against a leg of the shrine, one foot solid on the floor, and holds Daud in place with one bloody hand. 

Daud can't see it happen - Corvo's bunched shoulders and head bent in focus block his view - but he feels the sticky bump of Corvo's cock against the wound.

Corvo pushes inside him and both of them make noises that would humiliate them any other time. Daud's voice is caught between a groan and a scream, between pain and a sickening satisfaction. If this doesn't kill him, he will be ruined for sex with anyone else. It's never going to be this awful, this good, this full of hate and- and- 

A hand wraps around his cock and strokes. Gentle for now. He's surprised by the softness of that touch, but more surprised to realise it's exactly what he needs. If he's forced to feel any more he's going to die.

The next slow thrust makes just as much noise as the first, both of them tensing and pressing against each other and struggling to breathe.

What must it feel like, to bury your cock in a wet, bloody wound? A hole you made with your own blade and hands? Can Corvo feel his guts, his bone, the pulse of blood from severed veins? Or is it just heat, tight and wet? When Corvo comes inside him, where in Daud's body is it going to settle? Will he be stitched up with white still staining his insides?

"Fuck me," he groans, just on instinct. Corvo's hips stutter, teeth bite into Daud's chest. "Corvo, fuck me," he repeats, thrusting as much as he can. "Fuck me."

Corvo gives in. Two hands pinning Daud's hips in place and he thrusts hard and fast, skin slapping together, blood smearing over both of them. The pain is more than Daud could dream. It is a hot poker buried in his guts, claws tearing him open. A starving rat pinned against his flesh, eating its way to freedom. He screams and struggles under Corvo's hands and somehow he still wants to come more than he wants it to stop.

He's begging. He can hear himself begging, pleading with Corvo, he just wants-

Teeth tear through the skin of his chest as Corvo goes taught, hips still thrusting, and finally, finally, Corvo wraps a hand around Daud's cock and strokes him hard and rough.

He comes with a scream that leaves him voiceless, with a kick of pleasure and agony that makes him forget he ever felt anything else. In that white expanse of feeling he can see eternity, and it is not dark like the void, it is blinding. It is so bright and hot it burns. Cleansing like an overseer's brand.

 

Daud is barely conscious as he is taken off the shrine, laid out on the floor. He thinks just long enough to raise his head to see the wound, but it's only red. No streaks of white like he imagined.

Corvo forces him to drink elixir, though he chokes and splutters the whole time. And the next one, and the next. Something warm and wet slides over his stomach, lapping up come and blood with muffled moans. The world tilts, and he has sense enough to struggle. He doesn't want to be taken anywhere. Just wants to sleep.

Then, somehow, he is in his bed. He is warm and cold at once, he is painfully thirsty, he is-

He kisses Corvo back. It's easy. It's satisfying.

Daud hasn't truly felt satisfied since the moment he was born. It's a wonder he recognises the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy woundfucking! And I realised at some point that the shrines, if you get a proper look at them, are kind of shaped like a St. Andrew's Cross. I'm sure this is what they intended.
> 
> I'm officially out of ideas for this pairing right now but. I assume there will be more, and I will write them. Prompts welcome. You can find me on tumblr @aturinfortheworse.


End file.
